


Who Knew?

by Indybaggins



Category: Mock the Week RPF
Genre: Falling In Love, First Kiss, Friendship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-29
Updated: 2007-07-29
Packaged: 2018-01-12 00:13:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1179606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indybaggins/pseuds/Indybaggins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frankie is struck by the thought that he <i>likes</i> Hugh…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who Knew?

 

 

When Frankie met Hugh he had felt, although the feeling disappeared quickly, a little star-struck. The man was a legend. Maybe not to the world as a whole, but in their own little world of comedians, voice-artists and performers, he was. Frankie had known who Hugh was before he himself ever became vaguely famous, and to meet him, sit face-to-face, well; it was somewhat of a thrill. 

He hadn’t thought they would be friends. Not at first. There was the pint they went to drink that day and a load of small-talk, a steady stream of joking and energy and a sense of “will you steal my punch line or back me up” that he remembered from every first conversation with soon to be co-workers, and at the end of the evening the feeling had been cautiously positive. They’d do fine. 

But only now, a couple years later, Frankie is struck by the thought that he _likes_ Hugh. It shouldn’t be so strange, after all they work together well, Hugh is talented, fun, definitely a friend now, except it is. 

He truly likes the feeling of Hugh next to him. The battle of who speaks first, who is the funniest, who gets the most laughs is electric and nearly always liberating, neither of them hold back, and when they sit down/stand up/lean over and share a smile, the warm sense of camaraderie almost floors him. 

He likes Hugh’s hair, the way it’s wiry and pale like Hugh himself. He likes Hugh’s eyes, who remind him of sky and the ocean, and maybe the ocean and sky remind him of Hugh too, quite often, but he doesn’t ever say that. 

He doesn’t think about why he loves the man, mainly because he loves someone else, but he can’t bring himself to think he doesn’t (won’t, can’t). Because it’s _Hugh_ , and that name is as much a declaration of need and want in his mind as anything else could have been. 

So when he runs into Hugh in the parking lot before the taping, dark thunderclouds packing overhead because oh dear England is still flooding (they’ll get gold out of that later tonight) he notices Hugh’s slanted mouth, fine lips, gentle smirk and _wants_. 

So he leans in too close, not even a hello, just the feeling of Hugh’s shirt, fabric of the grey suit subtle under his hands, and presses a quick, closed-mouthed kiss to Hugh’s lips. 

Hugh doesn’t say anything, but the thunderclouds are reflecting in his eyes, building up a storm. Frankie takes a few steps back (oh god), and mumbles something of a sorry before he takes off. 

(That should have been the end). 

 

Hugh is left standing there, blinking owlishly, until the first fat drops of rain start falling from the clouds, and he beeps his car shut and speed-walks to the door, the cold water raining mottled dark circles onto his suit. 

In make-up, the girls give Hugh hell for being out in the rain and try to dry his pants with a hairdryer. He barely notices, as his mind seems to have slowed down, changed from a hundred miles and hour about everything to focused on one little detail: Frankie’s wild look of terror before he bolted, and what it means. 

He knows it’s not a joke. He knew that before he ever felt Frankie’s lips, because Frankie is remarkably timid outside the studios, doesn’t ever lie or boast. He will lean in though, sometimes, over a pint, to whisper something into Hugh’s ear, broad smile, breath warm and ticklish so close by, and Hugh focuses on that to solve his riddle of “why”. 

When the taping starts it’s awkward, but he makes a point out of smiling in Frankie’s general direction (can’t meet his eyes, not yet) and he literally feels him relax next to him. 

More than ever, he listens to Frankie’s voice, not what he says but the story beneath, the warm gentle tones betraying some worry still, but also strength. Frankie fights for his laughs in his own way, and they’re two games further before he realizes he has yet to interrupt him. Knowing that will not do, he jumps in there and starts arguing about something or another, he doesn’t even remember the topic, but by the end of it all the other panelists are in giggles, there’s a flush on Frankie’s cheeks and he himself is laughing, deeply. 

The taping goes well, in all, Hugh knows there is little showing on his own face and he likes it that way, feeling in control but underneath his mind is still racing, still trying to capture and define what it had been and why and how and more specifically, what now? 

In the end it comes easy, as the taping ends and he walks behind Frankie, his hand gets caught around Frankie’s elbow and he pulls him with to the end of a hallway where there’s a fire escape door (glass, the rain is still falling, little streams of water dancing over the surface) and he faces him. 

Frankie wants to say a million things, Hugh sees, but he himself only wants to say one and so he gets to go first. With an eerie sense of slow-motion, he puts his hands on Frankie’s shoulders and leans in. It’s a little awkward, because their noses almost bump and he’s never kissed anyone with stubble before, but it feels surprisingly _right_ , so he keeps going. 

They both keep it light and tentative, with a little nip of Frankie’s lips and a flash of his tongue, and as he lets go, Frankie’s eyes are gleaming. He knows his own face is showing a mix of confusion and elation, a lot of “wow” and “oh god,” but he finds that he doesn’t mind, and as he leans in again Frankie cups his face, thumbs soothing and learning a whole new world, and his only thought left is “who knew?”.

 

 

 

 


End file.
